Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Rhys stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window which faced the front yard. In the distance, he could see tourists standing in front of their wrought-iron fence, snapping photos. Their home had often been referred to as the Buckingham Palace of New England. The interior, yes. But not the outside. In the backyard, the Atlantic Ocean crashed against the shoreline, and you could see for miles.
He put his hands in his pockets and watched the traffic move slowly up and down the road. The speed limit was twenty-five, but motorists drove ten to fifteen miles per hour under that, normally with someone hanging out the window with their cameras poised for the perfect shot of the houses along the avenue.
“So, instead of avoiding the elephant in the room, let’s discuss the pros and cons of going.” Dean continued, bringing his attention back to the matter at hand.
Rhys sighed and turned toward his cousin, who had made himself comfortable on the large sectional in Rhys’s apartment. His living space was nothing like the rest of the house. It was fresh and modern, while the main house maintained a historical feel. Growing up, he hated living in the monstrosity. He swore the place was haunted. It was also dark and drab in some places, and the pipes creaked. Trey never seemed to care and had imaginary friends, which Rhys assumed were their ancestors.
“The cons,” Rhys started, “are as follows.” He held his index finger up. “One, I’m not the guy in the message, and I end up standing around looking like a fool. Two, she’s not the woman I remember, albeit vaguely. Three, we have zero chemistry, and the night is a total bust.”
Dean held his finger up. “One, you’re Rhys Wainwright. Every woman in the restaurant will ditch their date for a night out with you. Two, you remember more than you’re telling yourself now, so that’s not an excuse. Three, you can charm a wet mop into dancing all night. I’m sure the chemistry is there, regardless. Now, let’s talk pros.”
Dean readjusted his position and held his other hand up. “One, this Maisie woman has put herself out there. That screams confidence, exactly what you look for in women. Two, it’s a night out. You love going out. Three, you have absolutely nothing to lose. You show up, you talk over dinner, and if things go nowhere, you wish her a good night after walking her to her car, and you come home to Trey.”
Rhys stared at his cousin for what felt like an eternity and tried to come up with some sort of rebuttal but fell short. Dean was right, as usual—Rhys had nothing to lose, while Maisie did. If he was the guy in the article, and she was waiting for him and he didn’t show, it would hurt her. Rhys wouldn’t be able to live with himself knowing he’s hurt someone, and he’d always wonder if he should’ve gone.
Rhys huffed. “Fine, I’ll go.”
Dean clapped his hands and stood. “I’ll go pick out your clothes.”
Rhys rolled his eyes and followed his cousin to the closet. “I’m going to wear the suit I wore the other day, when we bumped into each other. It’ll give her some recognition.”
“If I didn’t love that idea, I’d tell you to tone down the stuffiness with the suits, but you make sense.”
“You’re so odd sometimes,” Rhys told Dean. “I love you like a brother, but—”
“Don’t finish that sentence. I just happen to love love.” He shrugged. “Believe me, if this were me, I’d be there with fucking bells on.”
Rhys put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “You’ll find your one true love someday.”
Dean knocked Rhys’s hand away. “Screw your Shrek references. Maybe I should come with you.”
“Definitely not.”
Rhys found his suit from the other day and went into the bathroom to change. When he walked back into the living room, Trey and Dean were sitting on the couch together playing a racing game.
“Don’t keep him up late,” Rhys said to Dean, then bent down and kissed Trey on his forehead. “You be good for Uncle Dean, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“Love you, buddy.”
“Lub you.” Trey leaned to the side to see the television that his father was currently blocking.
As Rhys headed toward his front door, Dean called out, “Don’t forget to wear a raincoat!”
“S’not raining Uncle Dean.”
“Motherfucker,” Rhys muttered under his breath as Dean bent over with laughter. “Good night,” he called out as he left the apartment.
Rhys parked, shut off his car, and stayed in his seat while he stared at the outside brick wall of the restaurant. Every few seconds, the line of people checking in for their reservation grew, however he didn’t notice a female standing there by herself.
Did she bail?
Even if this Maisie woman had bailed, Rhys wouldn’t have any idea by sitting in his car. Sure, he could walk in there, look around and not see her, but people would see him being stood up, and Rhys didn’t like the idea of that. He never had an issue with getting dates. More often than not, women flocked to him, especially every time some magazine wrote an article about him. Not only was he the most eligible bachelor in New England, but he was also a single dad and, for some reason, women gravitated toward him because of his son. Sure, his son was cute, and the most adorable tiny human Rhys had ever seen (yes, he was biased on that point), but he had trouble understanding why him being a father attracted so much attention.